Phenomeno:Case 01

Case 01: The Wish-fulfilling House

Flow

1

Hey, mother.

If the beings called ghosts exist in this world, then—

Would it ever be possible for someone to prove their existence in a way no one anywhere could object to?

I think it would be impossible, no matter how much humanity evolves. On the flip side, it also means that no one anywhere could irrefutably prove that they do not exist.

From that standpoint, to discuss whether ghosts exist or not is a complete waste of time. That's why the only winners of such debates must be the ones who can enjoy ghosts purely as a source of entertainment. Indeed, I fall under that group, and I'm what's commonly known as an occult maniac.

Mother, you may not know this, but I’m a bit of a pariah in society — to be of my age and go ghost this, Unidentified Mysterious Animal that; I know that people laugh at someone like me. But you know, there are plenty of things in this world that are inexplicable.

Yes—

For example, the house I'm living in.

This bygone, almost thirty-year-old building rests on the banks of the Tamagawa waterworks, and the rent is exceptionally cheap, partly because of its remote location. I had just moved to Tokyo this spring, and was looking for cheap real estate, when I found this place.

The closest convenience store is a ten-minute bike ride away. It's surrounded by darkness and covered by a thick copse, and because there are no streetlights in the area, it's completely dark at night. Nevertheless, this old building was cool. It was built in the style of a mountain cottage, with a garage on the first floor and atriums on the second and third floors, so it was more than luxurious for only one person. The kitchen is as cramped as an office kitchenette, but it has a living room, a Japanese-style room, a bath, and even an atelier. From what I hear, an architect designed it as their personal workplace. For me, it was love at first sight. Furthermore, it was rare to find a place with a bath for just 30,000 yen in Musashino, Tokyo, and above all, it had a history that couldn't be ignored.

"This is 'The Wish-fulfilling House'," so said the smiling real estate agent who introduced this place to me. "The architect who built this place became famous, the illustrator who moved in next became overwhelmed with work opportunities and moved to the city center, and the young couple that lived here until last month just vacated because they had a baby. You are quite lucky."

After hearing that, who wouldn't sign up in a heartbeat?

So, I jumped at the opportunity. There was probably a feeling of superiority too, given that my university classmates pay over twice the rent to live in rabbit cages. In any case, for a while I thought what a lucky guy I was, and how my first experience of living alone had gotten off to a good start.

Yet — within a month, I realized how big of a mistake that was.

When I was sleeping at night, I heard these sounds ring out from somewhere. Creaking sounds of an old door desperately trying to be opened. At first, I thought there was something wrong with the building, but it was odd that it only happened around two o'clock in the morning. I tried going out from the Japanese-style room in the corner of the second floor, which I had used as a bedroom, into the living room. Thereupon, the noise stopped. I thought, "Maybe it's coming from up above," and went upstairs to check the atelier on the third floor. But there was nothing there that could be the source of the sounds. I'd planned to eventually organize it to look more stylish, but at the moment it was a bleak room, housing nothing more than my desk and a bookshelf. I looked around, but all the windows were shut, and there was nothing that could make a sound. After that, I moved to check the toilet and the bath. But I couldn't find anything that could be connected to the sounds there either. I thought it was just my imagination, and was about to go back to bed, when it happened. The sounds started up again. A creaking noise, like the sound of old wood grating. I could also hear the sound of something scratching. It wasn't a mouse or a cat or anything like that. It was an eerie kind of sound, like something trying to crawl out of some dark place after having been tormented for many years.

Gradually, the sounds seemed to stop echoing throughout the house and started to feel like they were seeping out of a space right next to my ears. From that day onwards, I kept all the lights in the house turned on, and shoved in earplugs whenever I slept, but the problem was no longer just about the sound.

It was about two weeks ago.

I found something definitive.

I found a "7" ("七") carved with something sharp on the wall of the staircase landing.

I immediately checked to make sure the doors and windows around the house were locked. But there was no sign that anyone had entered, and I was extremely terrified back then. It was a pretty big engraving, but I forced myself to think that I just hadn't noticed it before. However, a few days later, I found a "6" ("六") near the bathtub. It had indeed been carved by something sharp onto the wooden frame of the window. And then— it happened a week ago. I found the number "5" ("五") near the toilet, and even the most optimistic part of me was convinced.

Something was in this house.

And that this… was some sort of countdown.

I immediately flew out of the house; I couldn't live in a place like this any longer. I hadn't made any close friends at university yet, so I lived in karaoke spots and net cafes for several days straight. I couldn't talk about something like this to anyone. I didn't know any priests, nor any mediums. It was then that I realized. Right, the people from "Ikaigabuchi" would be perfect for discussing this with. Like-minded people who, like me, were fascinated by the deep world of the occult; They might believe me.

And having said all that—

They definitely weren't suspicious people at all.

"No, 'we' are plenty suspicious."

"...Huh?" I recoiled at the sudden voice from above.

I turned back to see "Karasu-san's" white face, waving her hand at me.

"Sup, Nagi-kun."

"K-Karasu-san. How long have you been there?"

I checked the time on my cell phone.

It was ten-thirty at night. There were still thirty minutes remaining until the offline meeting began.

"Right around the time you started explaining 'The Wish-fulfilling House' to your mother."

"...That's basically from the beginning," I complained, as I hastily shoved my stationery back into my bag.

"Sorry, my bad. But you know, peeping is, like, our thing, right?" said Karasu-san as she displayed a cutesy smile.

This was a family restaurant near Itsukaichi-kaido Avenue.

We were going to have an emergency offline meeting here with the members of an occult site I frequent. And of course, Karasu-san wasn't her real name. It was a handle that she used online. Just as I, Nagito Yamada, go by the name "Nagi" online, she went by "Karasu," meaning "Raven." This was the third time we'd met, but I still didn't know her real name. However, she was a regular visitor on the Ikaigabuchi site, and thus a veteran of the occult in comparison to me, who'd only begun browsing the site in spring this year.

Her appearance was the same as always. She was dressed in a purplish velvet dress that reached down to her ankles, and under that was just a black camisole, which exposed her cleavage. Her breasts looked they would jump out at any time, which made looking at her awkward — however, this was her uniform of sorts.

"You're quite early, did you close up shop sooner than expected?" I asked, and in response:

"Pretty much. Fortune-tellers don't have much to do when there are no customers," she said as she took off the shawl she was wearing and sat down across from me. "But you know, to put it frankly," she looked at me as she played with the shiny skull accessory on her chest, twirling it with her fingertips. "Your house probably has nothing to it."

"What?"

"What was it called— umm, right, right, a schema."

"Schema?"

"It's a term from cognitive science, apparently. If you keep believing you're scared of something, then you start seeing faces in the stains on the ceiling, that sort of thing. The truth is that if you hear your house rattling every day, the scratches that were originally in the house to begin with start to look like numbers.”

"...S-seriously?"

"Seriously seriously. I mean, you came to Tokyo by yourself from the super rural-ness in Shizuoka, and this is the first time you're living alone, right? Furthermore, you're living alone in an old wooden house, so it's understandable. I used to live in a house that groaned and squeaked a lot, so I know how you feel. It's like the sound of plastic wrap, pretty creepy." She said that as she raised her hand to call the waitress and ordered a beer.

Wait, hold on a second. If this was just me being a wuss, then what was I supposed to say to the occult veterans that were coming to the offline meeting? Would I get banned from that wonderful site overnight for being such an airhead?

"Ahh, don't worry about it," she laughed flippantly. "They're the kind of people who love to get together and talk about creepy stories to begin with.”

"But is it going to be that simple? Around ten or so people said they were gonna join today."

Thereupon, Karasu-san said "Huh?" and stared at me. "You haven't checked?"

"Checked what?"

“Today's participants, I think there are already more than 30.”

...What?

I hastily accessed the Ikaigabuchi offline meeting board through my cell phone.

Thereupon, I opened the "The Wish-fulfilling House / Investigation Thread," and was astonished.

"It really is true. Why'd the number suddenly skyrocket? Are people really ‘’that’’ interested in 'The Wish-fulfilling House?'"

"Unfortunately, that’s not it at all. You see, even the super regulars 'Suu-san' and 'Zippo-san' are also on the list of participants, aren't they? They wouldn't come for some mere ghost story."

...Some mere ghost story, you say.

She laughed at the expression I was making, plucked the phone from my hand and began to twiddle with it. Eventually, she turned the LCD screen towards me. "This person. The fourth poster, going by the name 'Yoishi.' I think this many people are showing up because this person announced their participation."

"Who is this 'Yoishi' person?"

"Who knows," Karasu-san grinned as she pulled out a cigarette. She lit the cigarette using a worn, thin-sized lighter, and after blowing out a puff of smoke, quietly whispered, "Those that meet Yoishi die seven days later."

"What?"

"There's more. 'Yoishi isn't a living person,' 'Offline meetings Yoishi attends end in disaster,' and what else was there..."

"W-what are you talking about?"

"Something like an urban legend that started being whispered around Ikaigabuchi. Even so, no one's actually met Yoishi. No one knows if Yoishi is some old man, or what their gender is. However, everyone who attends a meeting Yoishi goes to clams up. The entire thread disappears. The participants stop coming to Ikaigabuchi, or—"

"Or?"

"They die."

Her low whisper felt like I was being doused with cold water from my neck down my spine. On the other hand, Karasu-san was happily receiving her shiny cup of beer, exclaiming "Woah, delicious!" in a lackadaisical tone.

"But those...those are just rumors, right?" I asked, and she replied "That's right", while laughing.

"So, basically, even if 'The Wish-fulfilling House' is a miss, there's hope that 'Yoishi' pops up, everyone gathering today is looking forward to that. So you have no reason to fret," she said, but even so, I had some pretty mixed feelings.

Until now, and until today, I trembled with fear alone, unable to go back home. That’s why I went to the trouble of organizing today's offline meeting, in the hopes of hearing the opinions from the veterans of Ikaigabuchi. Having the story blown off immediately as my misunderstanding wasn't enough to make me go, ‘Ah, so that’s what it was’, and quell my fears.

"But — if Yoishi has gotten interested, might 'The Wish-fulfilling House' be the real deal?"

"Who knows...I'm just interested in seeing how Yoishi-kun's appearance turns a horror story that doesn't interest me into something eerier."

...Doesn't interest her...

"If it's still bothering you, Ikaigabuchi has a page for investigating haunted areas. You can request an investigation on there. Although I still think you'll just end up being laughed at," she laughed as she finished gulping down her beer in the blink of any eye.

Indeed, the occult website I often frequent, Ikaigabuchi, did conduct on-the-spot investigations of haunted places across the country, both famous and unknown.

After an investigation, the haunted spots were rated on a four-point scale from A to D, with A being the most dangerous. This rating was quite unique, in that even famed areas such as Taira no Masakado's Grave and Oiwainaritamiya Shrine were jointly given a D-rank by Ikaigabuchi — In other words, they were rated as having the lowest level of danger. Supposedly, it was because those areas had become a place where ghosts and humans were "segregated" on the basis of mutual respect.

On the other hand, places given an A-rank were often unknown to the general public. Places such as crime scenes that involved murders brought forth by ugly emotions such as infatuation and jealousy, or at the site of an elderly person’s lonely death, who spread their fanatical delusions until the moment of their death. They say that those places serve as lightning rods for souls that resent this world, souls that have lost their personalities and simply became a mass of resentment, who exert an inescapable malice towards those that approach them.

As I thought such things, Karasu-san had begun peering intently at my face. "Hey, Nagi-kun."

"Yes?”

"You have the sign of a meeting."

"What?"

"And it's — with a girl."

...Seriously?

My expression relaxed at hearing those words.

"Could you please elaborate a little more?"

"Hmm..." She began playing with the realistic skull-shaped accessory near her chest as she continued. "How should I put it...it's a very intense encounter. Like two split souls are reuniting... But—" she declared with a look that seemed to see right through me to some other world. "It's hard to say if meeting this girl will actually result in happiness for you."

"What do you mean?"

"And furthermore... Huh? Wait, isn't she already dead?"

......Hey!

Isn’t that like being possessed or something?

You've gotta be kidding me, I thought, but I also remembered that she would tell me such ominous things every time we met. Previously, she'd told me I would have luck with bicycles, and then I got hit from behind by a mama-cycle on the way back home. Another time she told me I would have golden luck and I was happy about it, then I stepped on a gold-colored thumbtack at home. In other words, she has a subtle skill as a fortune-teller, conveying people's unhappiness in a way that does not make them feel unhappy.

"You know, Karasu-san, if you're a fortune-teller, shouldn't you also teach people how to avoid misfortune?" I asked.

"Well, It's up to the individual to decide whether they consider misfortune to be misfortune." she said, and stuck out her tongue in a cutesy way, then shouted to the employee passing by, "Another beer, please!"

As I sat there, watching over her in a vexed manner, the chime at the entrance rang in rapid succession, and one after another, suspicious-looking people entered. Seeing as they were coming over after recognizing Karasu-san, I deduced they were people attending the offline meeting.

"Hello, hello, Karasu-san, you look as beautiful as ever."

"Maru-san, it's been a long time."

"It's exciting, isn't it?"

"The cruel tricks of our fortunes, that we should meet."

As such conversations unfolded, the seats at the far back of the family restaurant, where I was stationed, gradually became more and more crowded. I recognized a few faces among the increasing number of people, but the vast majority of them were strangers. I'd been actively participating in the offline meetings in Tokyo, but I have to say that the world of the occult is really deep when you see new faces en masse every time.

Just past eleven o’clock, the group of people with bizarre tastes gathered at the back of the family restaurant, finally exceeded thirty people. Well, I'd picked the family restaurant figuring there'd be only ten people, so this was a pretty big transgression. The looks from the waitresses passing awkward smiles at me hurt.

"Are there any more coming?" I quietly asked Karasu-san, who was engaging in small talk with the other attendees, and she responded with her cheeks slightly reddened, "It's way too late to ask that now."

"There are a bunch of people who show up without registering, so there'll probably be a few more."

"Won’t that be problematic?"

"This might scare away 'Yoishi' too," she commented cheerfully, but—

This might be a bit troublesome.

  ◯

"So, which one's Yoishi?"

As expected, not even an hour passed before the conversation blew past "The Wish-fulfilling House."

The countless occult veterans crammed into the family restaurant all looked around at each other, frantically searching for the accursed "Yoishi."

"Alright, I propose we do one round of introductions now!" The middle-aged man going by the handle "Professor" suggested as such, his face was already red.

Judging by the number of empty beer mugs lying on the table, he seems to be quite the drinker. The chorus of "Let's do it! Let's do it!" began in response, and soon each person stood up one by one and began to speak. At least half the participants were already quite drunk, so the atmosphere began to feel less like a gathering of occult enthusiasts and more like a full-on drinking party.

"Me first! I'm Professor! My field of occult specialty is in the ethnography of forgotten cultures!"

"Me second! I'm Usagi. I love folklore about Ryoumen-sukuna-sama!"

"Me third! I'm Harley! I get excited by stuff related to OOPArts! Among other things, I'm currently researching the Voynich manuscript!"

What're they going first, second, and third for? And why are Usagi-san and Harley-san both jumping on the bandwagon?

The occult maniacs, who were more playful than necessary, began to introduce themselves one by one. And they did so in a ridiculously boisterous way. I alone, seemed to receive the sharp, reproachful glares from customers all over the shop.

"Me seventh, I'm Karasu!"

When she energetically rose from her seat, she was greeted with a particularly loud round of applause, and when she started reciprocating the affection, I completely gave up on discussing the house. Come to think of it, every offline meeting ended up like this, it was uncharacteristic for an occult website like Ikaigabuchi.

"Go on, Nagi-kun. It's your turn next," urged by Karasu-san, I begrudgingly stood up. "Umm... Eighth. I'm Nagi. I'm a university student."

"What type of occult do you like?"

"Uhh, I love all kinds of mysterious stories...but right now I'm interested in things related to ghosts."

When I answered half-heartedly to the question that had been flung at me, people began shouting "Too stiff, too stiff!" "You haven't drunk enough!" and someone ordered a beer for me without even asking me. Man, I'm still 18. I'm underage, I can't drink.

"It's fine, it's fine. I'll drink it. Just act like you're drinking and they'll be satisfied," laughed Karasu-san as she smacked my butt with her palm after noting my expression.

Well, in any case, that’s how the thirty or so people introduced themselves in one round—

And in conclusion:

There was no one here who went by the handle of Yoishi.

"What? So they didn't show up?" "I showed up just to meet Yoishi." "Is anyone faking their handle?" Such voices arose one after another, but in the special space of an offline meeting, where it was not unusual for people to meet each other for the first time, it was hard to figure out if anyone was lying.

"Well, since we've all gathered, can we discuss what 'The Wish-fulfilling House' is—" I began to speak, but "Suu-san" cut me off,

“Here’s what I think," As I recall, he was an old veteran of Ikaigabuchi who managed a liquor store and liked collecting things like the arms of tengu and the shells of kappa, "Yoishi might be a different handle of Krishna-san."

I was listening with a sigh, but I reacted to that famous name.

"I see. That would make a lot of sense." Replied someone.

"If we summarize the rumors involving Yoishi — umm, 'If you get involved with Yoishi you'll meet a terrible end,' 'Yoishi isn't a living person,' 'Those that meet Yoishi die seven days later.' Things like that? But we've never heard any concrete news of someone dying, and maybe certain threads disappeared from the forum because Krishna-san used an alt account to participate and register haunted places that needed to be investigated, That's what I think, anyway."

I see, nodded Karasu-san in agreement.

"Krishna hasn't been showing up as well lately, so that'd make sense."

"W-wait please," I interjected. "Krishna-san, as in the administrator of Ikaigabuchi, Krishna-san? Everyone's met them?"

"We have met them, or rather, they've always shown up to meetings before."

"But they're not here today?"

"You want to meet them?"

"Yes, of course."

In the first place, the reason I became interested in the Ikaigabuchi site was because the person named Krishna was so fascinating to me. Of course, part of it was that I was interested in the occult from the start, but Ikaigabuchi clearly held an attraction that was different from other occult sites.

That was apparent, for instance, when looking at the odd sentence prominently displayed on the home page, "Things that bother people also bother ghosts." Ikaigabuchi was originally established as a site to promote the separation of ghosts and people. Most people can't see ghosts. That's why, regardless of whether we mean well or not, we probably bother ghosts more than they do us, it was a perspective that was both fresh and unique. And as I read articles about renowned haunted spots on Ikaigabuchi, my conviction deepened. Each article was filled with care towards ghosts, and at the same time, never forgot to show respect towards both the living and the dead.

"I've always wondered: Why are people always afraid of ghosts? Perhaps some ghosts play tricks on people, while other ghosts say, 'Come on, stop it,' and step in to intervene, yet no one ever thinks of the latter possibility. Maybe a certain amount of order is maintained by good spirits, and that is why the vast majority of people live their lives without ever being threatened by ghosts."

That paragraph in particular, struck a chord with me.

Those words hit me hard, as I had just arrived in Tokyo and hadn't met anyone I could call a friend. I realized more than ever that people were connected to others through sincerity. It gave me the courage necessary to think that I could make it in Tokyo, where it's said that people's relationships with others is tenuous, where people try to avoid needless interaction with others as much as possible. I was encouraged by that. That was when I actually began participating on the site.

As I read the daily updates of bizarre articles, I became more and more fascinated by this Krishna person. Their deep, yet wide-ranging knowledge of the occult. Their logical and elegant writing style. The sincerity that could be felt in every written word. They were packed with things that my soul lacked and things that I truly needed right now. Before I’d realized, I had come to think of Krishna-san as my brother and father in Tokyo.

And if I could make a wish—

I wanted Krishna-san to personally investigate "The Wish-fulfilling House" themselves.

"H-h-how old is Krishna-san? What kind of person are they?"

"Nagi-kun, you're stuttering." "Calm down." "Here, have a drink."

Undeterred by the interruptions of Suu-san and the others, I rephrased my question.

"Please, tell me. How could I meet them?"

However, my question was met with an awkward silence from the group of thirty people.

"I don’t think they’ll show up to an offline meeting again."

"Why?"

"Some things happened..."

"Some things?"

"Well, you’ll see. I’m sure you'll get the chance to find out sooner or later. But for now, leave it be."

I only received vague responses like that.

The brief silence in the family restaurant was broken by Zippo-san, who I think worked as a programmer.

"Um... I disagree with that opinion."

"That opinion?" In response to Karasu-san’s question, Zippo-san pushed up his thick glasses and answered nervously:

"Um… The theory that Yoishi and Krishna-san are the same person."

"What do you mean?"

"To tell you the truth, I know of an acquaintance who met Yoishi at an offline meeting."

"Really?" the entire gathering was suddenly excited.

"What were they like!?" "How old?" "Guy? Girl?" "Which offline meeting?" They all asked in unison, and Zippo-san quietly answered:

"The offline meeting was for the investigation of an abandoned hospital in the Tama prefecture, about half a year ago."

"So, what was Yoishi like?"

"Umm, well...I don't know."

"You don't know? How come?" Karasu-san asked, and Zippo-san gulped once before answering:

"Because the guy's hospitalized."

"Hospitalized?"

"Psychiatric Ward," Hearing that, the lively crowd once again fell to a deathly silence.

Everyone fell silent as if something heavy and grim overshadowed the excited crowd in their seats.

"Hospitalized in a psychiatric ward? Is that Yoishi's fault?" asked Suu-san, and Zippo-san slowly shook his head.

"I don't know. But even after regaining consciousness, the only word he ever mumbled was 'Yoishi.' That's why I came to this meeting today, to ask Yoishi what the hell happened that day in the offline meeting."

Everyone fell silent for a while once Zippo-san stopped speaking.

From then on, the family restaurant was once again filled with stories of Yoishi. "Come to think of it," was the type of statement preceding conversations as tales of Yoishi emerged one after the other, as if being unconsciously recalled by those present.

If I were to summarize those stories—

It seemed "Yoishi" was someone who appeared very rarely on the Ikaigabuchi forum. They rarely posted, but when they did, they would post on threads on almost any topic, and give accurate commentaries on even the most maniacal of topics. Taking into account the variable times of their posts, Yoishi was thought to have been an occult maniac that sat in front of a computer almost twenty-four hours a day. They had knowledge of the supernatural that rivaled that of Krishna-san, but their posts showed no signs of sharing the love for ghosts that defined Krishna-san. If anything, they could be described as creepy — a creepiness that felt as if a dead person had blended into the internet.

"Maybe there's some truth to the rumor that Yoishi isn't a living person after all," mumbled Jersey-san, who said he was a writer for a magazine. "Remember that thread that popped up on the net a while ago, 'I'm a ghost, do you have any questions?'"

"Ahh, you mean the one that was talked about as being the real thing? Even after running an IP search, the PC and host were unknown."

"In my opinion, ethereal forms have good affinity with computers and other digital equipment. Because, you see, brain function is also driven by weak electrical signals."

"You do hear a lot of stories like that about ghosts posting on the internet."

"Then, that Yoishi—" mumbled Suu-san in summary. "We can't see them, but — maybe they are already here?"

Those words sent a shiver down my spine.

I quietly looked around the brightly-lit restaurant.

It wasn't just me, it seemed like everyone had felt something cold.

After that, the gathering became somewhat reserved on the topic of ghosts. Gradually, seats became arranged by topic as people broke off into their areas of interest.

As the organizer of today’s offline meeting, I wanted to bring it back to the original topic, but I was certain no one remembered anything anymore about my house. In addition, the creepy stories that Suu-san sitting next to me was telling were just too interesting. A story about a box found in an antique store that could not be opened, a talisman found behind a painting on a hotel wall, a woman‘s cackling laughter while speaking to a doll — each provided enough entertainment to leave you sleepless when alone at night.

Everyone lost track of time as they enjoyed the endless flow of occult discussions—

And at around one o'clock in the morning, the offline meeting dispersed.

2

"Please wait a minute!" As the Ikaigabuchi members scattered into the night streets in small groups, I chased Karasu-san as she flagged down a taxi on the main street. "What about my house? You know, 'The Wish-fulfilling House'?"

Thereupon, the rather useless fortune-teller flapped her hand back and forth with a flushed expression. "It's fine, it's fine. It's that, uh, umm, schema. And what else... I think I was going to tell you something, but — ahaha, I forgot~."

"What do you mean 'forgot'...?"

"Don't worry! You have the sign of a meeting! Well, see ya!" She slapped me on the back and then happily jumped into the stopped taxi.

As I watched the taxi drive off, I stood there dumbfounded for who knows how long.

"...Ugh."

Was it alright if I went back now?

To that house — to "The Wish-fulfilling House."

I began walking down the main street toward the train station, dragging along the mama-cycle I'd bought cheaply online for commuting to school.

Tokyo was filled with people even this late at night. In particular, the area around the train station near my house was close to many universities, so there seemed to be no difference in the number of people milling about from day to night. Around the time the station building came into view, I almost crashed into a couple of girls, then subsequently apologized for it. One of them shot me a ‘What the hell’s wrong with you?’ look, but the other cracked a smile and said, "No, we’re sorry." I apologized again once more. That’s all there was to it, but it filled my heart with hope. Indeed — a fateful meeting was lying in wait for me. And with a girl, no less. This might be it. The bizarre events tormenting me at that house must surely be a catalyst for the happy times to come. In the future, I will look back at this string of events and laugh it off as nothing more than just another funny story.

I felt less burdened when I thought of it like that.

Besides, now I didn't have to move. Moving costs would be painful for me, given that I was receiving no allowance from home.

"The offline meeting was fun in its own way, so it's all good, right?" I muttered to myself, and finally straddled the bike.

I turned around and decided to go back home for the first time in a few days.

“None of the people that came to the offline meeting today said anything about "The Wish-fulfilling House." If you look at it from a different angle, that means it can't possibly be a ghost incident. It's a bit shameful as the original poster, but all's well that ends well, right?”

What would have happened if I'd dragged people over to my house, and it turned out that there were no ghosts or anything at all? I'd be a laughingstock.

Having finished completely arming myself with logic, I felt the pleasant night breeze on my cheeks and pedaled harder. I'd recovered to the point where I even started humming.

However—

I noticed something when I was about to re-enter the main street from the shopping arcade in front of the train station.

For a while now, there's been a strange, uncomfortable feeling on the sole of my left foot. It was like gum was stuck to my shoe, so I stopped my bike and took off my sneaker.

Then, with my left foot raised in the air, I looked at the rubber sole of the sneaker, and froze.

I felt my blood freeze over and the elation I felt, evaporate all at once.

On the bottom of my sneaker—

The number "4" ("四") was etched all over.

  ◯

"Damn it, schema my ass."

The countdown was continuing, wasn't it?

I pushed the mama-cycle along with an almost one-legged step, as everyone passing by threw me strange looks owing to my frenetic expression, but I paid them no heed.

I threw away the sneaker with the '4' etched all over it on the spot. There was no way I could keep wearing such sinisterness. The cold of the concrete and the hard, scattered pebbles pricked my foot through my sock, but I didn't care.

Why and when was '4' carved into the back of my sneaker?

What was going to happen when the countdown ended? And what did I need to do, to escape from this terror?

I had no idea, but I kept on running anyway.

People in fancy clothing stared and laughed, but I didn't care. I just wanted to be somewhere warm.

Where?

Where could that be—?

Eventually, I found a late-night discount shop just past the arcades, and jumped in. A ridiculously cheerful theme song was being played inside. I hummed along to the simple, repetitive melody as I checked out the wide selection of products that were quite cheap. As I leaned against a cosmetics shelf and mumbled to myself, a group of girls dressed flamboyantly avoided me as they passed by. An employee called out to me and asked, "Are you unwell?" and I finally realized that my left foot, covered only with a sock, was throbbing with pain. I looked down and saw that the sock was torn and dripping with blood, perhaps I had stepped on a shard of glass along the way. I bought some bandages, a pair of socks, the cheapest sneakers they had, and went to tend to the wound in the bathroom. I washed the back of my foot, wrapped the bandage, and wore the new socks. The cheap sneaker had a shoddy design and wasn't very comfortable, but it was far better than being barefoot. It was an unnecessary expense for sure, but I felt comforted by it. I was afraid of staying alone in the bathroom for any longer, so I returned to the inside of the store. I wandered aimlessly around the shop as if window shopping and repeatedly took deep breaths.

— What should I do now?

That was all I could think about, and yet, I could not come up with an answer.

At some point, I was absentmindedly just standing there in front of the display window, when the employee from earlier approached me again and asked if anything was wrong, so I left the store. I had no choice but to begin heading toward the usual net café, but when I got there, it was already full. I peeked into the nearby karaoke box, but even it had a line spilling out onto the street. I tried a few other places, but it was the same situation everywhere. Come to think of it, it was Saturday night. There would be no vacant places until the first train.

However, I couldn't think of anywhere else to go.

As I wandered around the station dragging my bike around, the police shot me suspicious looks. I almost felt like it would be more comforting to be arrested, but some level of common sense still remained in me, so I turned back to the main street.

The headlights of cars on Itsukaichi-kaido Avenue illuminated me as they passed by. Numerous cars that normally looked like exhaust-emitting devices to me, but today I felt consoled by them. It was reassuring to eye things that could be scientifically explained.

However—

I may have reached my limit.

This was the same as being completely homeless, wasn't it?

I had no one I was intimate with in Tokyo, where the lights never dim. I had no place to go. On top of that, I was running low on funds. Without knowing why, I looked up at the night sky, but even in a cloudless sky, there wasn't a star to be seen. Only a dark space spread out as if it were painted over.

Maybe I could call my sister in the morning and borrow some money. And then I'd go straight back to Shizuoka. Tokyo was too much for me, which was something humiliating to say, but all this was just too unexpected. I'd imagine most people would have trouble with such a case as well. Mother, I'm sorry. You supported me so much in my move to Tokyo.

Then at that very moment—

At the end of the night road, I spotted an intense light.

When I lifted my head, I realized I'd come straight back to the family restaurant.

"I see...this place is also open twenty-four hours."

That was enough to make me feel like I'd found a million allies, and my knees almost buckled.

The drink bar here alone was cheaper than the net café, and it was a Saturday night, so there were plenty of people inside. I should have just stayed here from the beginning.

"Hahaha," With a dry laugh like that, I probably looked pretty unapproachable to any passerby.

However, the moment I left my mama-cycle at the bicycle parking of the family restaurant, and was about to enter, I was startled.

There was someone there even more bizarre that would make anyone stay away.

Outside the restaurant’s large, glass window...

And amidst the thicket of fern bushes planted to cover the restaurant—

Was a girl fully dressed in black.

Even though it was spring, she wore a black long-coat. Her long hair stretched down her back, her skirt and even her boots were all pure black. Yet her complexion alone was abnormally white. And because she was lurking in the darkness, it looked as if something with only a face was floating.

...Wh-what is she...doing?

She was just standing there in the middle of the thicket, pressing her forehead against the glass as she stared into the restaurant.

It was so creepy I took one step back, when--

She slowly turned to face me. Her cheeks were shockingly white, and every part of her face was like a dream. She was modeled so perfectly that it made me feel like she was too good to be true, like a life-sized Bisque Doll that had accidentally been left there — that was the impression I got.

A girl whose color was the night itself.

Unexpectedly, those words popped into my head.

Those were the colors of the girl's eyes. Maybe it was because of the lighting, but it strangely felt like a large proportion of her eyes were taken by her irises and pupils, and under those long eyelashes, they seemed to glow jet black. Below her straight-cut bangs, they shone a dark color as they gazed upon me.

"...By any chance, are you…"

Those words naturally came out of my mouth.

"—Yoishi?"

The girl merely nodded in silence.

  ◯

Yoishi isn't a living person.

Those that meet Yoishi die seven days later.

Offline meetings that Yoishi attends end in disaster.

What I'd heard earlier floated around in my head as I stared at the girl in front of me.

Seven glasses were laid out on the table in front of Yoishi, each with a different type of drink, including iced coffee, cola, orange juice and Japanese tea; She’d effectively created her own drink bar.

"Um... Aren't you supposed to take just one at a time?" I asked her in an exasperated tone, but she replied:

"As long as I drink everything, there should be no problem," she spoke without taking her eyes off the glasses, and took one sip after another.

She drank the orange juice, then the iced coffee, then the warm Japanese tea, and then the cola. She faithfully repeated the order a number of times, sometimes adding Rooibos tea, black tea and melon soda as an accent. I didn't know if there was any meaning to the order, but I found it odd because when she drank them, it looked like some kind of religious ritual passed down through the ages.

I looked again at the girl who went by Yoishi.

She looked to be of high school age. Looking at her sitting directly in front of me under a bright light, I could see that she held immense beauty. But the problem was her eyes. Those eyes, like glass beads, seemed to be looking somewhere, and nowhere. The air she gave off felt as if we did not share the same world, creating a unique barrier around her. Rather than the nobility of a princess, she was closer to that of a witch's apprentice.

"Anyway…"

I asked the girl dressed in black as she busily rifled through the drinks.

"Why didn't you come to the offline meeting today?"

"I did."

"No, but, you didn't come when everyone else was here earlier."

"I was there. Right there, the whole time."

She pointed toward the other side of the window, where I'd first found her — in other words, the bushes outside the store.

…Out there? With her forehead pressed up against the glass?

"What does that mean? From eleven o'clock until now, you've been there the whole time?"

"Yes," she nodded. As I stared at her pale face, I began thinking.

This girl—

Is she what you'd call a denpa?

Denpa, an internet slang term for a slightly troublesome person who spontaneously spews out random occult delusions into the world, but--

It was already past two o'clock in the morning. To cling to the glass for three hours straight since eleven o’clock, that must have creeped out the employees. I thought that as I quietly turned around, and saw that a different group of waitresses than before were staring at Yoishi and whispering something to each other. Their expressions were contorted in a slightly mean manner, like an air of contempt for someone who was more foolish than they were. I stood up, having felt like I'd seen something detestable. I immediately walked toward them and declared "I’ll take a drink as well," then headed straight for the counter to grab a drink. I didn’t know why I felt so irritated. Maybe it was because I felt like I'd been laughed at myself, being a fellow occult-lover.

I filled my glass to the brim with ice, then pressed the button for coffee.

—Now then, what to do from here on out.

As I watched the hot coffee melt through the ice, I thought.

I can't go back home; The countdown still continued. Furthermore, I've ran into the heresy-class occult girl from Ikaigabuchi. And now, for some reason, the two of us were at a family restaurant late at night. In a way, it's comforting that I wasn’t alone, but given that my companion was the occult girl with strange urban legends attached to her, it was a tricky situation.

"You like bad coffee?" asked Yoishi when I returned to my seat.

"What?"

"I asked if you liked bad coffee. The coffee here is unsavory."

I looked at her seven glasses again and noticed that the iced coffee had hardly been sipped.

"Information that you can gather beforehand should be processed before you act."

Yoishi's neat, logic-filled words annoyed me, so I replied with some nastiness.

"Then allow me to gather information: Why did you come to today's offline meeting?"

"Because I was interested."

"In 'The Wish-fulfilling House'? Why are you interested in that house? The sounds are probably just structural rattles, and the engravings might just be my mistake, right?" I intentionally repeated exactly what Karasu-san had told me in a self-torturing way.

But Yoishi replied, “That’s true”, without any hint of retorting.

"Then, why—"

"When I read about that house on the forum — I felt a bit of an oddity from it."

Her low, whispering tone gave me goosebumps for some reason.

"The internet is overflowing with countless ghost stories, but most of them are fake. Real ones, however, have a scent that cannot be hidden."

And with those words, something hot bubbled forth from somewhere deep in the pit of my stomach.

Having a denpa believe you isn't really something to be pleased about, but I was, to be frank, simply glad to finally meet someone who would listen to the source of my fears. It was true, that place was the real deal. I was already in tears because of the numbers carved on the sole of my shoe a moment ago.

"Hey, what is it? Is it a ghost or something? Are you the type that can see them? What do you mean by the real thing having a scent that cannot be hidden?"

I couldn't stop myself from blurting out questions in succession, and Yoishi replied nonchalantly, while she stared at her glass of orange juice.

"To answer your first question, it may not be a ghost."

"Huh?"

"Secondly, it’s not that I can see everything. Lastly, A feeling. Real ghost stories have a subtle lack of cohesion."

Yoishi began to speak, a sudden change from her dazed attitude from before.

"Strange phenomena occur; The people involved become afraid. When you investigate, you find out that someone committed suicide there — and I won't say that such stories with a convenient outcome are all fake. However, the really interesting ghost stories transcend that. There's a sense of discomfort, as if something important has been skipped over. The only thing that can fill in that gap is a theory of the other side."

"S-so basically, what's happening? What are those frightening sounds in my house? Why are the numbers being scrawled, and why are they counting down? When the numbers run out, what's going to happen to—"

Before I’d realized, I had almost stood up as I shouted:

"—What's going to happen to me!?"

The restaurant went deathly silent, and everyone was looking at me.

Embarrassed, I sat back down. However, I didn't even know what was going on anymore. I had no idea what do from here on out. I scratched my head, feeling sorry for myself, when Yoishi quietly muttered,

"So, you are the one who posted that story."

I looked up, and saw a mysterious glow in Yoishi's cold, dark eyes.

I nodded, and told her everything that had just happened.

That the countdown was already down to "4" ("四"), that it had been carved onto the bottom of the sneaker I had been wearing. I explained all of that as I trembled.

"How does someone even carve that? Is something from that house haunting me all the way here?" I complained, almost in tears — when I gasped.

Yoishi's eyes, which resembled glass beads, were now brimming with life.

Then, she suddenly raised her finger to the tip of my nose and said, "Hey, close your eyes."

"Huh?"

She turned her beautiful white face directly at me, and peered into my eyes. The shape of her facial features took over my field of vision, and to be honest, my heart raced.

"Why do I have to close my eyes?"

"Just do it."

Flustered, I did what she told me to do. As I closed my eyelids tightly, some kind of inappropriate fantasy ran through my head, but I did my best to brush it away.

"Imagine..."

Her lips moved on the other side of my eyes, and she spoke commandingly.

"You are now standing at the entrance of your house."

Her voice, somewhat gentle and commanding, made me stand in front of that house, whether I wanted to or not.

"Imagine yourself standing in front of the entrance to your house in as much detail as possible."

As if prompted by her words, I recalled the house that stood in the dark.

Black — its pointed, mountain cottage-like shape.

The reddish-brown roof, the mountain cottage style structure, and the atelier built by an architect exclusively for himself. The walls were stained nicely and covered with ivy halfway up to the second floor, and the white paint on the wooden window sills had begun to peel off. The first floor was a garage, and the second and third floors were living quarters. The house that I rented for 30,000 yen, which didn't even have a kitchen. The house where strange sounds would begin to ring out from somewhere at night, and where a number would be engraved somewhere the following morning—

My legs began to tremble, but I clutched my knees tightly with my hands, and managed to hold on.

"Alright. Once you've called it to mind, place your hand on the doorknob."

"...Ok."

"Now please open the door."

I opened it. My shoes were lying scattered in the doorway. They were the leather shoes I'd kicked off when I rushed out in a hurry. But from there, my feet refused to take one step further. I felt someone inside the house, when it should have been empty. The thick, sticky air made me feel that way. No way, I didn’t want to go any further, even if this was just my imagination.

Perhaps sensing my thoughts, Yoishi whispered, "You'll be fine. Please go inside slowly. Then take off your shoes as you always do and enter. Once inside, open all the windows in the house, it doesn’t matter which order you do it in. Open them precisely, one by one, with complete certainty."

...Windows? Why open the windows?

I wondered, but obeyed anyway. I approached the living room window, unlocked it and opened it. From there, I moved to the Japanese-style room I was using as a bedroom and unlocked and opened the window there. Then from the Japanese-style room to the bathroom. Opened. Next, the bath. Opened. From there, I proceeded to the third floor. There were two windows there, one by the veranda and one next to my desk. I unlocked and threw the both of them open with precision.

"...I'm finished."

"Then, this time, please close the windows in reverse order."

"...Huh?"

"Close them in order, starting with the last one you opened."

Having no other choice, I did as she said.

The window on the third floor by the desk. Veranda window. Then down to the second floor, and uh, the bath, toilet, Japanese-style room, living room.

I closed them all.

"Alright, you're done. Now open your eyes."

Hearing Yoishi’s voice, I opened my eyes to the blinding fluorescent light. I wasn’t aware of the bright pop music filling the restaurant until now, but suddenly, I could hear it. Right, I was in a family restaurant. As I rubbed my eyes to get used to it, Yoishi asked me:

"How was it?"

"What do you mean how was it, what was the point of that?"

"Was there anyone in the rooms?"

At those words, my hair stood on ends.

...There was.

On the staircase landing linking the second and third floors. I think I saw a middle-aged man wearing ashen-colored clothing. He looked vacant and motionless, yet he stared at me with his eyes, as if he was watching everything I did. I couldn't catch him in the front of my vision, But out of the corner of my eye, I could definitely see his presence—

"...There was, wasn't there?" Yoishi's black eyes shone somewhat delightedly. "Was it someone you know?"

"...I don’t know. Never seen him before."

No... How could that be? How is it possible to recall someone in your imagination that you've never met before? With the house still markedly visible in my mind, Yoishi's joyful voice echoed.

"Scared?" I looked, and saw Yoishi had come close enough that I could feel her breath. "Hey, are you feeling scared right now?"

...I’m scared.

Or perhaps I should say, I'm scared of your eyes that look like they are going to devour every part of me.

"Tell me in more detail. What did they look like?"

Taking a deep breath, I explained while trying to stop myself from trembling.

A gray, worn suit. I don't think he was wearing a tie. The suit seemed a bit big, but that may have been because the man was thin. His hair had streaks of grey, and I couldn't make out his face. His long hair seemed to have grown out in a messy way. The shoes he wore were black.

In response, Yoishi went "Hmm..." as she stroked her well-shaped chin.

After a moment of silently gazing around in mid-air, she turned her gaze toward me once more.

"Hey, how about we go?"

"—Go where?"

"To your house. Right now."

3

—Ahh, why did things turn out like this?

It was a night with a beautiful moon; I was pedaling hard on the mama-cycle.

I passed through the residential area to the north of the train station near the family restaurant, and from there, I continued west along the drainage channel. The drainage channel was called Shimokawa and was one of the tributaries of the Tamagawa waterworks. This river gradually curved northeast, towards the area I lived. Every time my bike bounced off the bumpy road, Yoishi's body would press against my back. I could feel the bulge of her small breasts through my jersey, and I indulged in misplaced delusions of how we looked like a nice couple.

However, clinging to my back was a denpa girl dressed entirely in black. Her arms wrapped around my waist were oddly cold. Aren't girls supposed to have a higher body temperature? Shouldn’t they be like soft, warm, and smell nice? However, I couldn’t feel any body heat from Yoishi, who was sitting in the back seat of my bicycle. In fact, if it turned out that she was someone only I could see, I wouldn't even be surprised. That's how far away from a date this night-time bicycle rendezvous felt like.

The residential area became increasingly distant, and fields belonging to landowners began to spread out in their place. Street lights too, diminished in number. It felt like there were more stars in the sky, and the smell of grass became stronger. We were close to my home.

"Quite rural."

"Shut it," I replied to Yoishi after a considerable period of silence.

"I didn't mean that in a bad way. I didn't realize Musashino still had places like this."

"That's why I figured the rent was so low," I grumbled with a hint of self-derision.

Houses became even sparser, and after passing by a few old shrines, we entered the area lined up with dense groves of trees. A short distance along this narrow path would lead to my house.

"To be honest, I didn't want to come at night," I spoke towards my rear.

"It's a phenomenon that only happens at night, so we must go at night." Yoishi readily replied. It was actually a pretty good argument.

For a short while, we both remained silent, until eventually, Yoishi asked:

"What was your wish?"

"Huh?"

"After all, you took the trouble of living in 'The Wish-fulfilling House,' didn’t you?"

‘Took the trouble’, she says, but the truth was I just had no money for anywhere else.

"Nothing special. I just wished that my family's business would go well, that's all." I answered.

"A family man, how surprising," Yoishi commented, devoid of emotion.

'Surprising' is pretty harsh, I started to reply, but then the house beyond the black forest came into view.

"Is that the one?"

"Yeah."

Looking at it again, I'm amazed that I had rented such a place. It looked like a haunted house no matter how you looked at it.

As soon as I slid the mama-cycle into the ground-floor garage, Yoishi jumped off the rear seat of the bike. I pressed the switch on the steel column and the garage's ceiling light turned on. That was all it took to significantly reduce my fear. Yoishi began walking about on her own, looking at the building from several angles.

"A magnificent building."

She said, as she began walking ahead of me. She went up the stairs to the entrance on the second floor. Not having any other choice, I placed one foot on the stairs, but could go no further. As for Yoishi, she quickly climbed the stairs, casually opened the door, and took a glance inside. Ahh, right. Now that I think about it, I rushed out without locking the door. That means I'd left it unlocked for several days, how careless of me.

All I could do was look from the bottom of the stairs. It was pretty pathetic of me, but I was the one that experienced the fear. I'd say it's animal instinct to not want to get any closer unless safety is ensured.

"How is it?"

"Dark."

Well of course it is.

And with that, Yoishi quickly went inside. I was afraid of being left behind at the bottom of the stairs, so I rushed after her. When I opened the front door, the lights were already on inside. Yoishi stood right next to the light switch, and glanced around from the ceilings to the walls. Lights really are a great thing. I was calmed just by it being bright, so much so that I didn't know whether those creepy happenings were real or not.

When I was about to take off my shoes at the foyer, I saw that Yoishi's knee-high boots had already been neatly taken off and arranged. She might have had a better upbringing than I thought, but then it struck me.

Come to think of it, we hadn't even properly introduced ourselves to each other yet.

"Hey, I know it's belated, but--" I turned toward her and said, "I go by 'Nagi' online, but my real name is Nagito Yamada. I'm in my first year of university this spring."

She simply nodded once without turning around and said:

"I'm Yoishi."

"Isn't that a handle?"

"No. My surname is Mitsurugi. Not that it matters."

—Yoishi Mitsurugi ("美鶴木 夜石").

She was a very strange one indeed. What kind of person reveals their real name on the internet and doesn't give a shit about their surname?

"'5' ("五") was on the wall of the toilet?"

She asked, as if suggesting that the conversation we just had was a waste of time, so I pointed to the far end of the second floor and said, “That way”. Yoishi silently moved in that direction. Without hesitation, she opened the door, turned on the lights, and peered in.

I quietly followed.

"See? It looks like the number '5' ("五"), doesn't it? It's not a schema or whatever, right?" I asked Yoishi from behind.

"You know of words such as schema?" she asked in a condescending manner.

"Well, I mean, I am an occult maniac, after all."

That was a lie. It was a piece of information I had only just acquired.

"If you look at a meaningless shape with prior knowledge of a specific set of information, the brain tends to recognize the figure in line with that information— that is a schema in cognitive science, but this is without a doubt a '5' ("五"). Even I see it that way."

Yoishi spoke as she traced her fingertips over the engraving, paying no heed to my words.

Well, even if it wasn’t a schema, it didn’t solve the problem. If anything, it made things worse. If this was truly a deliberately-written "5" ("五"), then someone — or something — in this house wrote it.

"'6' ("六") was near the bath?"

After she finished carefully examining the "5" ("五"), Yoishi switched on the light in the room with the bath just opposite to the toilet and opened the door. She moved her face right in front of the symbol engraved into the window sill. As I watched the scene from behind her, I caught the smell of something odd.

Truth be told, it'd been bothering me since I met her — but now that I was in an enclosed space with her, it became clear to me once more.

"...Are you wearing some sort of perfume?"

Yoishi wordlessly shook her head.

"Wait, but this smell on you..."

That’s when I realized what that smell was.

I'd smelled it in club rooms during middle school.

A somewhat sour, nose-curdling smell, as if something was rotting.

"...Um, I totally understand this is a rude thing to ask a girl," I asked, pinching my nose, "But when did you last take a bath?"

Yoishi turned around and looked at me quizzically. Then she looked up at the ceiling. I had a bad feeling about that gesture, as if she was searching through distant memories.

"Wha... It was so far back you have to think about it?"

"I don't quite remember, maybe last month?"

"Wh-what the hell! Get in the bath! The bath!"

"But I'm already here."

"That's not what I meant! Do you not take showers? Wash your hair?"

"What does that have to do with the numbers counting down?" Yoishi seemed completely bewildered as she asked me, but come on, I'd heard about the term "dirty girl," and I know French royalty were famous for never taking baths, but this is contemporary Japan. Do high school girls that don't take baths for a month exist?

"What you say lacks reason," she said flatly, and then peered closely at the window sill once more. "It is unmistakably, a '6' ("六")."

She quickly turned around and asked, "How about '7' ("七")?" She really had no interest in anything other than the paranormal. Sighing, I reluctantly guided her.

It was on a wall on the staircase landing to the third floor.

This was the place where the middle-aged man I didn't know was standing during the pseudo-word-association game Yoishi had me play earlier. As expected, I didn't feel like following her there, so I just gestured towards it. Yoishi wordlessly climbed the stairs and leaned against that wall as well.

"Hmm."

"That looks like '7' ("七") too, right?"

However, Yoishi didn't immediately answer. Instead, she took out a mini-flashlight from her pocket, shined it at the number '7' (七), and looked all around it.

"Is there something strange about it?"

"This is certainly a '7' ("七"), but— it's strange."

I was about to ask What's strange?, but at that moment-

Yoishi suddenly vomited. She didn't do anything cute like place a hand to her mouth in an effort to hold it back, but rather, standing upright in a daunting pose, she boldly hurled, which definitely made me take a step back. She was used to vomiting, that's what that posture gave off, and I ended up completely seeing it through to the end.

Dripping vomit.

Sparkling gastric fluid, and the remnants of the orange juice she was drinking earlier.

—What the hell is she?

She doesn't take baths, boldly vomits out in the open…

And to make things worse, she's an occult-loving denpa girl who wears coats during spring.

However, I finally noticed that the denpa girl did seem to be struggling a bit.

"Hey, are you alright?" I ran up to her and began rubbing her back. She gave a feeble nod and wiped her mouth.

There was vomit on the landing, but she resumed conversing as if nothing even happened.

"Ever since I saw your post, I thought it was strange. Why did the countdown begin from '7' ("七")?"

"Huh?"

"Countdowns should normally start from 9 ("九") or 10 ("十")."

"How should I know?"

I mean, ghosts were scary because you don't know what they're thinking. How would a human like me know why something like that began counting down from "7" ("七")?

"Wrong. The paranormal has no rules, but the other side has a will of its own." said Yoishi as she climbed the stairs; I had no choice but to follow.

As if to say there must be an "8" ("八") and a "9" ("九") somewhere, Yoishi turned on the lights to the third floor and began sliding up to the walls. Her posture, as she crawled about on all fours, scampering along the walls, was both creepy and comical. Afterwards, Yoishi began mumbling something to herself and didn't respond to anything I said, so I gave up and went back down to the second floor. I poured water from the small sink next to the toilet into a bucket, and threw a rag in. Even after everything, this was still my house; I couldn’t just leave the vomit on the stairs like that. As I took the bucket to the staircase landing, I was reminded of the blank face of the man Yoishi had shown me in the family restaurant a while ago, but I tried hard not to think about it and cleaned up the vomit.

Ughh, why does vomit smell so acidic? Somehow it always entices you to vomit, too. Moreover, it was irritating that the person who vomited didn’t seem to care at all. As if it was obvious that it would be my job to clean up after her.

"Hey, do you not eat? There's only liquid in this."

I commented with a bit of a nasty tone. But Yoishi, who'd come back down from the third floor, simply mumbled that there was no "8" ("八") or "9" ("九") anywhere. The way she said it, as if she was deeply disappointed, kind of ticked me off.

"Didn't I already tell you there weren’t any more?"

She ignored my comment and began looking at the walls on the second floor. Half-exasperated, I watched over her as I went down to the second floor with the rag and bucket. Then, I looked at the clock. "Say," I called out to her, "Are you alright being out this late?"

Of course, that was pretty belated, given that it was almost three o'clock in the morning.

If I were her parents, I’d be furious with her for being out this late.

"I hope you called home before coming out at this hour. I mean, I know it's my fault this is happening, but parents always worry. Back home, I always thought my parents were a pain in the ass, but once you leave, you feel an appreciation for that stuff."

However, she wasn't listening to my passionate sermon.

Instead, I noticed she was completely immobile, staring at a single spot.

"What is it?" I asked, but Yoishi didn't move. She stood still, frozen like a mannequin. I moved behind Yoishi and looked where she was looking.

It was the spot where Yoishi had just vomited —the staircase landing where the middle-aged man I didn’t know was standing in my imagination.

"Wa...Wait a second. Who're you having a staring match with?"

When I placed a hand on her shoulder, she twitched, as if breaking free from a spell.

And then she whispered, ever so softly, "I see."

When she turned around, she seemed to look happy. I could tell by the slight blush creeping into her pale face that she was excited.

"Hey, did you notice?"

"What?"

But Yoishi didn't respond, instead, she turned around and headed toward the entrance.

"H...Hey, wait up!"

"Let's leave."

She quickly put on her deep black boots, then walked straight out of the entrance. I hurriedly put on my sneakers and chased after her. Trying not to look inside, I shut off the lights, closed the door, and remembered to lock it this time. After that, I stuck close to Yoishi as she staggered down the stairs.

We arrived at the mama-cycle left inside the garage, Yoishi looked up at the building once more, and said, "This building is very interesting."

"What're you talking about?"

"Under the stairs to the third floor. There exists a meaningless space."

At that moment, goosebumps broke out all over my neck and back at once.

I see—

The eeriness that I'd felt all along about this house, I finally understood it. Indeed, it had always felt like something was odd about this house. And that was the area under the stairs which I could never reach. The area under the stairs that I just couldn’t get into, whether from the outside or the inside. I’d often heard stories about doors that couldn’t be opened, and this was similar in that it was a space where we didn't know what was inside, but its existence could be felt somewhere.

"And, look at this."

Yoishi pointed at the mailbox by the staircase entrance on the ground floor.

My full name was written on a piece of paper the size of a business card, with three lines inscribed on it, crushing the name from above.

It was unmistakable.

The number "3" ("三").

The countdown continued.

Yoishi placed her face almost right onto the engravings and mumbled happily, "This place is the real deal," but I spoke in a hollow voice:

"I can’t take this anymore."

Fall

4

My brand-new apartment was fantastic.

The floors were nice and clean. The wallpaper was new. The unit bath was sterilized.

It wasn't right comparing it to that house, where the remnants of the previous inhabitant drifted everywhere, but I definitely learned that it wasn't right to skimp on housing expenses. This was even further from the university, but at least there were houses nearby. I could walk to a convenience store, and there were plenty of streetlights. Anyway, this apartment, whose surroundings were brightly lit, even at night, was introduced to me by Karasu-san.

From what I heard, one of Karasu-san's acquaintances was the landlord, and Karasu-san herself was also renting a room here. It annoyed me a bit that her room was a warehouse (apparently a storage place for strange magical items and costumes), but I couldn't complain. The rent had rocketed to 50000 yen, but it was a cheap price for a 10 square meter apartment with one bedroom, a kitchen, a loft and a unit bath.

It had been more than a week since I looked at that paranormal house with Yoishi.

It was a Sunday afternoon, on a rare day with no part-time work and no lectures—

I opened the window and took in the pleasant breeze as I sprawled out in my empty room.

At any rate, the previous week had passed by quickly.

First, I cried to my big sister to borrow some money to move here, then did so immediately. I didn't want to enter that house ever again, and while it was expensive having to hire movers, it was worth it. Furthermore, this apartment's walls were so thin they made you almost want to pick up your neighbors' ringing phones, which made it feel like you were among living people. You could greet gloomy people in the hallways, and if you opened the window, you could hear the lackadaisical voice of the bamboo pole merchants. Basically, this place was overflowing with life. For me, that was extremely important. I'd been drained of mental energy to the extremes, and I needed the comfort of living amidst people more than anything else.

I didn’t meet Yoishi again.

That night, I gave her a lift to the family restaurant and parted ways. Everything about her was a mystery, other than the fact that she was a high school student and that her real name was Yoishi Mitsurugi. I spoke with her for a little bit as I pedaled hard back to the train station as if running away, but in the end, I never found out what was going on with that house. She didn't try to explain, and I wasn't in any mood to ask.

However, I had a strange conviction that there was something dangerous there. I was the one who heard the creepy noises every night, and I even got a countdown, but somehow, I made up my mind because of Yoishi's one phrase: "This place is the real deal." I immediately thought that this was not a place I could deal with. If you think about it that way, it's thanks to her that I was able to make the decision to put myself in a peaceful place like this, but—

It's true what they say: Once on shore, we pray no more.

Now that it was all in the past, I was truthfully somewhat curious.

What did she notice?

What was the countdown all about?

And just who was Yoishi anyway? It was hard to explain, but she seemed different from the average occult maniac. She wasn’t just getting a thrill by being close to danger, but she was also a daredevil who didn’t hesitate stepping into areas that a person’s instincts would say are dangerous—in other words, she had a sense of uneasiness about her that couldn’t just be explained as someone who wanted to die. Whenever she said something, I felt like the world I believed and lived in was about to collapse.

Sometimes I would take a peek at Ikaigabuchi, but Yoishi never appeared in any threads.

And of course, no one replied to the thread I'd started anymore, and it got buried deep to the point where it was hard to find. Krishna-san descended upon various threads, but they never touched on me or Yoishi's case. I was tempted to write that it was real, but I had no means of proving myself, and I still felt a little uncertain about the whole thing, at the same time, I buried myself in my normal daily life again.

Indeed — The everyday normal continued.

Increased rent and utility bills that can’t wait. My scholarship alone was insufficient, meaning I had to start working part-time in earnest soon, so I started a part-time job at an Italian restaurant near the station. I also had to pay back the moving funds that I'd borrowed from my big sis. So I started working whenever I had no lectures. My urban survival began with a week of exhausting physical exertion and forced workplace smiles, and in an instant--

A week had flown by, and it was that sort of day.

My first university lecture in a while had just ended, and I was stuffing my textbooks into my bag, when I suddenly realized an unknown girl was staring at me.

She was short, yet her breasts were big enough to be noticeable through her clothes. Her hair was bobbed and cut straight like a Zashiki-Warashi's, she had a baby-face that resembled that of a middle-schooler, and her red-framed glasses really suited her.

"Who is that?"

When I stared right back at her, she cleared her throat once and came over to me.

She started taking something out of her pocket, then put it back. I figured it was some sort of paper. She walked over to me, standing bolt upright, but in the end, never took out that piece of paper. She had a somewhat vexed expression as she glared at me (although her baby-ish face made it lose its bite), she then clicked her tongue and turned away.

"H-Hey, wait." I couldn't stop myself from calling out to her. "If you need something, just say it."

In reply, the bobbed-haired girl turned back around and said, "Moron."

"Mo-Moron?"

No matter how much of a mild-mannered and sincere of a person I was, I wasn't one to stand being insulted by a girl I'd never met before.

"Why are you being so rude? What's your name? What grade are you?"

I asked, but she simply snapped back, "Shut up."

"It's your fault in the first place." Then she pointed her small index finger at me. "People like you are the reason these things keep happening. Learn your place, fool."

"Fool? You..."

After that, she rapidly asked me.

"Do your shoulders ache? Do your ears ring? Are you able to sleep at night?"

Was she some sort of doctor's apprentice? I mean, did this university even have a medical school?

While I was bewildered, the girl finally pulled out the piece of paper from her pocket. She thrust it in front of my nose. Before I could even pick it up, she ran off like a rabbit, and by the time I picked it up, she had already left the classroom.

"...The hell was that?"

In the emptied classroom, I picked up the paper and looked down at it.

It was like a handmade business card.

It merely read—

"Beatnik Research Club President - Kurimoto Shiina"

—and the location of the Beatnik Research Club, situated in the western club building.

  ◯

That night, I saw a dream.

In my dream, I was still living in that house.

That old three-story mountain cottage-style building by the river bank.

There, I was looking at myself. It was like an out-of-body experience with my body floating in space, and I was gazing down upon a different "me" living my life. The "me" directly below showed no signs of noticing me and continued to live normally. It seemed I was looking a bit into the past. “I", who still didn't know the fear of the midnight sounds, was living there unconcernedly. Hey, give up on this house, I wanted to call out to him, but as a person just drifting through the air in a dream, there was nothing I could do. All I could do was stare blankly.

Eventually, I noticed that Yoishi was sitting next to "me." The two of us were sitting together on the old sofa I'd picked up after moving. The two of us didn't speak to each other, we just did what we liked. "I" was yawning as I watched TV, while she was just quietly reading an old-looking book.

It was just a dream, so I was free to make up any situation I wanted, but it's true that if I were to live together with her, it would be strange, since neither of us would really interfere with the other.

Eventually, the "me" down there got bored of the TV and proceeded to stretch, wash his face, and brushed his teeth. He should have studied a little or something, but he was going to bed now. As I observed myself as an outsider, I realized that I was a pretty worthless person. I boasted that I would rebuild my family's downtrodden lumber business, departed Shizuoka in opposition to my father and big sister, failed to get into the seminar I wanted, and then just wandered occult sites. Plus, I hadn't even written a single letter to my mother, who was the only one who agreed with my decision to move to Tokyo, and who I'd promised to send letters to. And in the end, I got lured by the cheap price and moved into a haunted house, running into a denpa girl along the way. I wanted to slap myself.

As I sighed and glared, "I" quickly curled up in my bedroom. I turned off the lights as if I couldn't see Yoishi, even though she was in the room. Yoishi seemed to notice the lights had gone off, as she closed her book and stared off into space.

I'd floated down to Yoishi, thinking I'd turn the light on for her.

"It's about time."

I had a horrible feeling when Yoishi said that.

And then—in the darkness illuminated only by the moonlight, I heard that sound.

From somewhere, the sound of something being scraped.

An ominous melody ringing across the border connecting this world and the other.

My whole body stiffened as I heard the sound, as if something somewhere was trying to crawl out of some sealed space. It was like watching those supernatural shows on TV, where they set up a camera in rooms where ghosts are rumored to appear.

This is a nightmare, isn't it?

I need to wake up as soon as possible.

Because, if I stay here like this—

I would end up seeing the "something" that was engraving numbers into this house.

I frantically tried to wake up. I waved my limbs around trying to touch something, but I couldn’t wake myself from the dream. It was like my body had been caught by some black hand that had seeped out of a different world. Feeling the despair of having been locked in a room with no exit, in the dream where only my ragged breathing echoed— I suddenly found myself next to Yoishi.

On the old, leather sofa, I held Yoishi in my arms.

I played with her body, as if I were trying to stain both of my palms with Yoishi's body heat. That was my wish, and yet, it wasn't. I mean, of course, I had some interest in girls as a regular eighteen-year-old boy, but my lust wasn't this twisted. I wasn't the type to release my sexual desires by turning myself into an unseen existence. I should have had that much reason left in me.

However—Yoishi showed no signs of fear.

If anything, she was in a state of ecstasy. Her expression was dangerous. I felt my rational mind flap its wings and fly away. I licked Yoishi's skin. I groped her breasts through her clothes. I lusted all over her soft body with the tips of my fingers. I pulled up her long skirt, exposing her pale thighs. Yoishi's eyes were barely open. Her lips were slightly parted, revealing her white teeth. Stop. Stop. Stop, I screamed from within my body, but I couldn't restrain the abnormal, sexual desire that was boiling up inside me.

However, the moment I placed a hand on her pale wrists—

I almost screamed. My arms were not ones I'd become accustomed to seeing, but were long and thin, like that of an old man. Those sleeves were gray and worn. I was wearing an old suit. I thought I smelled the scent of some cologne. I stretched out my trembling arms straight up to my face and stroked my cheek, my nose and my lips. And the feeling was horrifyingly unlike anything I had ever known. It was definitely that of someone else—and I knew whose it was.

Him.

That man standing in the corner of my vision. And at last, my face tilted against my will. I turned to the front window, where the moonlight was shining in —and there, my eyes locked with the man hanging over Yoishi.

At that moment—

I lost consciousness.

  ◯

I awoke with a violent shudder.

I was in my new apartment, lit by freakishly blinding fluorescent lights.

On the table next to me was an empty convenience store meal box I'd just eaten, and an unfinished bottle of oolong tea. A bag full of university textbooks and notebooks were scattered near my pillow. There were cheap curtains on the sash leading to the small veranda, which swayed from the night breeze coming through a small gap in the sash.

I let out a deep breath.

My heart was still pounding.

I came home from my part-time job, ate some food, and then fell asleep at some point it seemed.

Stop fucking freaking me out. Cursing no one in particular, I grabbed the bottle and gulped down about a third or so of the remaining oolong tea. I felt so incredibly thirsty that even lukewarm oolong tea tasted delicious. After finishing it, I finally calmed down, and ruffled my hair as I exhaled sharply.

"...Calm down. It was just a dream. It's only been about two weeks since that thing happened. It's not surprising that I still have some fear somewhere in my heart. That's why I saw that dream, that's all it is."

I mumbled in an effort to convince myself, but my heart still didn't stop pounding. I could still vividly feel Yoishi's soft body in both my hands.

It was then that I realized something had been ringing in my head the whole time.

It was a small, but definite warning sound, like a phone from the neighbor, like a cell phone left ringing in my pocket. What...what's bothering me? I looked around the room. There was only a barren room there, with barely any furniture and fresh white wallpaper surrounding me. Nothing had changed since I went to sleep. However, the bell inside my head kept ringing relentlessly.

"What the hell is it?"

I stood up and looked around the room again. There was nothing out of the ordinary. The aftereffects of the scary dream were just lingering inside me, that's all. I was trying to make myself believe that, when I noticed it. Next to the wall was a ladder leading to the small loft. The light for the loft was different, so that place alone remained dark. Just then, I felt something cold travel down my spine.

Why did I end up picking a place with a loft?

That dark area, where someone could unexpectedly peep in from at any moment, amplified my unpleasant thoughts. But apparently, the warning alarm inside me felt like it was directed straight at the loft. I mustered the courage to look up, and the warning sound grew louder. I swallowed once and turned on the light next to the ladder to the loft. I placed a foot on the ladder, climbing it one step at a time. Then, with all my resolve, I peered into the loft.

The loft was, of course, empty. The only thing there was a cheap sleeping bag I'd bought in place of a futon, and a few books scattered about.

"Haaah," I breathed a sigh of relief, and was about to climb back down, when I noticed it. On the other side of the sleeping bag, on the furthest wall at the back, I saw something. Scratches. Two lines had been violently etched, one perpendicular to the other.

I let out a silent scream and fell off the ladder. My knees and shoulders made a horrible noise when they struck the ground, but I didn't care. I somehow managed to grab my wallet and cell phone before running out of the apartment.

Those weren’t just lines. Definitely not lines——that was...

"2" ("二"). The number "2" ("二").

Even after I moved places—the countdown still continued.

I ran out into the residential area at night, and for the time being, ran to the nearest convenience store in search of light. As I ran, I tapped my cell phone, accessing Ikaigabuchi. I looked at the forum from end to end. I didn't care if it was Karasu-san, Suu-san, Yoishi or anyone else. I searched frantically to see if anyone I knew was posting. Then I found it. In a thread titled [Mysterious Dimension ☆ Ise Grand Shrine], "Yoishi" had posted a mere thirty minutes ago. Ignoring the serious discussion of how to see the Yata no Kagami at the inner section of the shrine, I posted:【Hey, Yoishi. Please help me! 】

The occult maniacs who had their debate interrupted made all sorts of derisive comments at my tactless post, but I ignored them and kept posting: 【Yoishi! Are you reading this? Talk to me. He's still haunting me.】

However, Yoishi didn’t reply, and all I did was anger the Ise Grand Shrine maniacs. Even after reaching the convenience store, I continued checking other Ikaigabuchi forum threads in the parking lot. I tried posting in random threads that Yoishi might find interesting. I told her I was in danger and to contact me immediately. But I might have posted a little too much, as the entire forum soon rose up in arms, calling me a troll. If I got banned, I'd have trouble contacting her, so I started responding, "No, I'm not trolling! I'm seriously in trouble!" but people just coolly responded, "Yep, he's trolling." Eventually, someone called me a ‘DQN’ and I exploded, writing in all caps: "YOU OCCULT MANIAC SCUM!" which set the thread ablaze. I was being bombarded with all kinds of abuse; It was like a 100 vs 1 flame war. Right as I was starting to feel like the world was against me, and the moment I was about to throw my mobile phone away, I saw the post:

【Are you Nagi?】

Someone had posted that message.

When I looked at their name, it said "Krishna."

That miraculous name was like a gift from heaven, one that almost made me crumble to the ground. I tried to type back a response, but my fingers were trembling too much.

As I struggled to reply, Krishna-san posted again.

And—

It stated:

【Come to the place written on the card I gave you that afternoon.】

5

It was past two o'clock late at night.

I'd left my bicycle behind, so I plodded my way to the university on foot.

Of course, the front gate was closed, and the security guard eyed me suspiciously. As if to escape his gaze, I went in a circle and followed the zelkova trees on my left along the university wall. After a short walk, I reached the western building, which housed the Beatnik Research Club room.

"Kurimoto Shiina — Krishna."

I was so stupid.

I had realized nothing.

To think that the administrator of Ikaigabuchi, Krishna, was a person who attended the same university as me—

And for that baby-faced girl to be Krishna, was unimaginable.

I went straight to the clubroom building on the far end, and as I entered, I was met with surprise. There were still quite a few students left inside, and some club rooms were still noisy. Is this some kind of nightless city?, I thought exasperatedly, but hearing such characteristic small talk, I felt ashamed of myself for being frightened by ghostly disturbances. At the same time, I felt pathetic for getting involved in such a silly ruckus. I walked with heavy feet to the Beatnik Research Club on the third floor. Upon arriving, I saw light shine through the frosted glass. I knocked on the door and heard a familiar voice, so I introduced myself. "It's 'Nagi.' Nagito Yamada."

"It's open."

"Excuse me."

Opening the door, I found myself facing a bleak, dimly lit, concrete-walled room of about sixteen square meters.

There was a single steel cabinet placed against a wall.

In the middle was a relatively large worktable.

And around it were four chairs, three of which were occupied by both men and women.

At the center—

Was the baby-faced girl who'd given me a business card in the classroom a few days ago.

Her red-framed glasses were still the same, but she was dressed in a kind of black dyed shrine maiden outfit, paired with tall wooden clogs, she sat perched on a chair. This suited her too well. I had no interest in such types, but I came frighteningly close to understanding how people who liked lolis and cosplay felt.

"Uh, hey, I mean, hello, are you Krishna-san?" I asked, and the girl nodded with an extremely disdainful expression.

"I warned you to leave that house immediately."

"Huh?"

"You didn't hear anything from Karasu-san?"

"Nothing at all."

Krishna-san cutely clicked her tongue and said, "Anyway, get in."

I entered and looked around the room again—next to the small occult site admin was a woman who seemed to be in her late twenties dressed in simple white clothes, who in no way looked like a student, and a bald, middle-aged man wearing monk attire, who also looked nothing like a student.

"Eh...huh...um."

I didn't know how to greet them, so I just stood awkwardly at the entrance. Krishna-san then made a motion with her small chin to “Sit down there. I sat down on the chair that had been prepared for me, and when I did so, the middle-aged monk suddenly came up behind me and grabbed my shoulders with his thick arms.

"Um... Wait, what's going on?"

Thereupon, Krishna-san asked me while pushing up her glasses:

"Why are you willingly trying to peek at the other side?"

And from there, her raging lecture had begun.

"Are you listening? As long as we don't peek from our side, we won't be seen by the other side. You can have an interest in the occult, It’s an admirable human quality to want to know about things you don't understand. Still, the other side's business is the other side's. To them, not being able to see them does not count as an excuse. Even though humans aren't able to see them, we have enough power to be able to feel them. If you think a place is creepy, you should immediately understand that there's something you can't see, and pay it due respect."

In the face of her stern gaze, even I, the fool, could understand.

"So, basically, I've been possessed?" I asked tearfully.

"At this rate, you're pretty screwed."

Her expression became even sterner, and I stiffened.

"Krishna-san."

The woman in the white dress called out to her. She had no make-up on, and held a strangely-shaped rosary.

"It's almost inside."

...What? What is almost inside?

"Could you remove it here?"

"I can try."

The two finished their strange conversation.

"Wait, Krishna-san. Who are these two?" I asked while trying to escape the rather strong monk.

"Ikaigabuchi investigators," she bluntly replied.

"Investigators?"

"I'll explain later. Just shut up and obey."

"It's pointless. The main body isn't here." I heard from a feminine voice, seemingly far away.

"It seems we will have to go to that house, after all."

"That does seem to be the case."

The middle-aged man and Krishna-san's voice sounded like a record playing at low speed.

I'd started to go limp. The monk was strong, but that wasn't the only reason. It was as if I didn’t realize that I was on the verge of collapse under the burden of a heavy load—and as soon as I realized that, all my sensory organs frantically tried to show me my level of fatigue. A feeling of fatigue covered my entire body, as if my whole body was sinking into a bottomless mud pit.

"You can't move? You'll be ok, just don't move," At the end of Krishna-san's strangely gentle voice, I lost consciousness.

To be honest, I don't remember much after that. I think I was loaded into a car. And then, I think there was a lot of shaking. My consciousness came back when I felt a familiar sense of coldness on my skin, one that seemed to want to wring me dry. My body was still heavy and my consciousness still felt muddy, but my survival instincts seemed to scream that wherever this was, it was bad news.

When I came to, I was in front of that house.

The middle-aged priest was carrying me on his back, and we were walking up the stairs leading to the entrance.

—No way! Hell no! I don't want to come back here again! I wanted to shout, but in reality, I couldn't even move my fingertips anymore. Not caring for my will, I was carried by the middle-aged man, and I was now again in front of the entrance to that house alongside Krishna-san and the white-clothed woman. Krishna-san easily opened the door. I was sure I'd locked it, but it opened without a sound. And an ethereal light glowed from inside.

"Who's there?" Krishna-san asked sharply.

I forced my resistant eyelids shut.

—No! I don't want to see them!

I don’t care who it was, I don't want to deal with this anymore. I give up. I decided right then and there. If I was able to see the sunrise tomorrow, I would go straight back home to Shizuoka. It was impossible for me to live alone in the demonic city of Tokyo after all. I wanted to rebuild my family's business and came to Tokyo to study for it, but I was too much of a wuss to live alone. I was better off living in the countryside, surrounded by family and friends. My father and sister, who were against my decision were right after all. Ahh, my mother alone supported me, but now I just felt apologetic toward her. But I tried. I did my best. I couldn't have imagined this turn of events, and I couldn’t cope with it, so—

"Close the door on your way in," someone answered from inside the house.

I recognized that voice. That cold, clear and somewhat definitive manner of speaking.

"If you want to know what's to happen, then please abide."

Right—this voice.

"Yoishi," my whisper echoed through the silence.

"Yoishi?"

Krishna’s voice, which sounded as if it was suspicious of her, overlapped with Yoishi's lackadaisical voice saying, "Good evening."

"There was a spare key near the faucet below, so I used that to come in."

"Let's go in."

Hearing Krishna-san's decisive call, the middle-aged man entered the foyer, still carrying me. He took off his shoes and continued on to the living room. Krishna-san and the woman in white followed behind. When I looked over the middle-aged man's shoulder, I saw Yoishi sitting with her hands clasping one knee in the middle of the empty living room, and a lighted candle in a small empty can besides her; That was the source of the faint light.

"Who are you, and what are you doing here?"

Krishna sounded as if she were scolding her, but Yoishi still answered lackadaisically.

"Be very quiet. If you brought that person here, then you already understand what's going on in this house as well."

"Yoishi...I see," groaned Krishna-san.

"So you're 'Yoishi.' You’re the girl that occasionally posts on Ikaigabuchi." Yoishi remained silent, but Krishna clicked her tongue and continued. "I have no problem with you having an interest in the occult. But there is a difference between having an interest and actually walking in the abyss. You should be aware that you're messing around in a very hazy boundary line."

"Nothing to worry about," flatly responded Yoishi to Krishna-san's harsh tone. "I’m confidently aware of that much, at least."

...Wow. She's undeterred by Krishna-san’s threatening attitude.

This is why girls are scary. My big sis was scary, too, and when my mother snapped, she was scarier than my dad.

However, Krishna-san responded somewhat sadly.

"I understand — I get it. I've seen kids like you before. That's why I say this. People who harbor expectations from the abyss of darkness always drag others into it, whether they intend to or not. That's a very—very dangerous thing."

The middle-aged man slowly lowered me down from his shoulder and leaned me against the wall. As I sat there, I could do nothing but forcibly listen to their incomprehensible conversation. My powerless body felt like it was being dragged about, and I was fully aware of my endless sense of helplessness. What happened here, what was happening here, and what was about to happen here, it’s as if all of it went against the rules I’d lived by thus far. I could do nothing here. I could only listen to their creepy conversation and be a bystander to their lurid theatrics. However, the desire to get away from it all was stronger than my desire to learn the truth. I just wanted to get out as soon as possible to a brighter place.

"Krishna-san." Just then, the monk interrupted both of them. "It's begun."

Along with his words, that sound began.

From somewhere in the building, that sound echoed.

...scratch. scratch, scratch, scratch. sssscraaaaaaaaaaaatccccchhhhhh.

That sound alone echoed, as if overpowering everything. Scratch scratch crunch crunch, something creaking somewhere. Something made a carving noise. The sound was the loudest thing I'd ever heard. It was almost as if something was trying to crush this place from outside and I desperately closed my eyes. I was completely in tears, and the world was filled with nothing but creepy noises.

—Please, stop this already. Forgive me.

As I was about to tearfully shout that out loud, I heard Yoishi’s voice.

"How lovely." Her happy voice entered my ears, and I felt enraged.

—Lovely? Are you fucking insane? It's beyond sanity to sneak into a house alone in the middle of the night with a ghost milling about and just sit there with nothing but a candle. Ahh, I get it, you're that kind of person. You're like a friend of ghosts. Then great. Can you tell your friend to stop scaring the shit out of me? I'm sorry for barging in on your house. But I didn't know. I cleaned up after myself and left already, so tell them to stop bothering me already. I mean, tell your friend to stop following me to my new place and stop giving me countdowns. I don't know what sort of grudge they have against the world, but I'm completely unrelated to it, so stop, tell them that.

Of course, my body wouldn't move and neither would my mouth, but I begged Yoishi with all my might.

However, Yoishi didn't care for my feelings at all.

"Hey, are you scared?"

I heard an inexplicable voice full of expectation in my ear. It seemed Yoishi had come right next to me, but I kept my eyes firmly shut. Instead, I screamed at her with my soul.

—Of course I'm fucking scared. I'm super fucking scared. My body won’t move and some incomprehensible sound is echoing through my head, and the only people around me are psychos and ghosts. Right, this house only has psychos in it now. A psychotic administrator that gathers and edits creepy articles, a psychotic woman holding some bizarre religious items despite being old enough to know better, some psychotic baldy who seems to only have bodybuilding as a hobby. And then there's you. A psychotic girl with straight cut-bangs covered in black. On top of that, there's some gloomy douche of a ghost that never shows itself but does annoying pranks like carve numbers. Seriously, cut it out. Are all of you actually enjoying an emergency offline meeting here right now? You're all just waiting for me to piss my pants, aren't you? Come on. Knock it off. I've apologized. I was wrong. I don't want to be here anymore. I don't want to see those numbers anymore. Next is "1" ("一"), and then what? What's next? I don't want to know. I mean if you're gonna kill me, do it at once. Stop chasing and dragging me around—

—However.

At some point, the sound had stopped.

My eyes were tightly shut, and the outside of my pitch-black world was filled with silence.

What? How? What happened—

I became worried that everyone had left, but I was also afraid that if I were to open my eyes, something else would be there.

Still, I couldn't just stay like this. I was already exhausted. I'd begun to feel reckless. If you're gonna kill me, just do it. I don't want to be hunted to death like this. Just give me a bad end already.

I opened my tearful eyes. But, all I saw was the same house I lived in as before. And everyone was still there.

Krishna-san stood in front of the door to the bedroom.

The woman dressed in white stood in the middle of the living room with her eyes closed.

The monk lingered by my side, and Yoishi alone stared at me emotionlessly.

Everyone was standing at the same spot they were before I had closed my eyes. I met my tearful gaze with Yoishi's eyes, who nodded once in return. She then looked straight down.

I followed her sight.

It focused at my feet.

As if cutting across the space between both of them, a thick scratch had been carved into the floor.

"AH, AHHHHHHHHH," I screamed, pulling my sluggish body away from it. But I was paralyzed with fear, and could only move in a strange, squirming way. However, I got out of there anyway, mobilizing everything I could to move.

I already knew it was coming.

It was—"1" ("一").

"It's '1'. It's all over. I'm tired of this, I'm going home, back to Shizuoka."

"Calm down, Nagi-kun," I heard Krishna-san's voice call out to me. Before I realized it, she'd started calling me Nagi-kun, but I couldn't care less at the moment, and continued to crawl away. I was desperately trying to flee from that number.

"I won't! What's the point of me staying here!? What's going to happen next!? What's going to happen to me!?"

"Pull yourself together, Nagi-kun," Krishna-san's voice sounded out once more—Ouch. Goddamnit, it must have been the monk. A tremendous thud echoed down my back. Then, the woman dressed in white started chanting something unintelligible. It was filled with strange rhymes I'd never heard before, countless words whose power were making my head go insane—

As I frantically flailed about, trying to escape, suddenly a long black skirt blocked my path.

It was Yoishi, dressed in her usual black clothes.

"Move," I said in a trembling voice, but this time her eyes weren't glass beads, nor was there a glimmer to be seen, rather, this time, Yoishi had a look of fascination as she reached out to me with her hand.

"Give me that thing."

......That thing?

"The thing you’re holding," she said, and I looked at what I was holding in my hand.

It was the key to my apartment. It was the key I'd left in my pocket. I was holding it with my back hand, and there were wood shavings stuck at the end. For a while, I didn't know what that meant. But then the wood shavings fell off and landed on the "1" ("一") that had been ominously cut at my feet.

"Wha..."

—It can’t be.

—That's impossible; there's no way.

"Yes," said Yoishi in a whisper. "The one carving numbers into this house… was always you."

With those words—

My consciousness went completely blank.

6

"In short, it was just a schema."

It was on an evening, about five days later.

Krishna-san was talking to me in the Beatnik club room at the university.

"Or rather, a reverse schema. You see, that house makes people uneasy."

Krishna-san and I were facing each other in the clubroom, with the beautiful evening sun shining through..

"The house...makes people uneasy?" I repeated like a fool, and Krishna nodded in confirmation.

"In the past, Ikaigabuchi investigated similar places too— there are many reported cases around the world where the structure of a building causes strange psychological changes in the people who live there. Some of them turn into murder scenes, and there have been many cases of people who lived there turning to crime. There's no actual scientific proof for the correlations, but I'm of the opinion that they exist. People's minds, after all, are unstable things that can be manipulated in any direction by the slightest load."

"W-Wait a second. What exactly do you mean by that?"

"Basically, that building wasn't built for people."

Those words sent a chill through me like I was gripped by the heart.

"I'll avoid saying their name here. But the architect who built that building was a promising young man who had won several architectural awards since his university days."

As she spoke in remembrance, Krishna-san was illuminated by the golden sunlight, and her beautiful straight-bobbed black hair glittered.

"He was supposedly a very serious person. Maybe too serious. He was the type of person that wondered what buildings are—and he would lose sleep pondering over that. Above all he loved seeing his clients happy, so he put his ingenuity to the test. One day, however, he realized the futility that arose when one person asked him for a different design, and he watched the house he'd put his blood and soul into demolished in the name of 'renovation.' Families change. Preferences change. It's an inevitability in life that can't be avoided, but he couldn't bear it."

—If you took care of it properly, it would last over a hundred years. —Sometimes, people should adapt to the building.

"Leaving behind those words, he vanished from that atelier one day. His family reported him missing, but he was never seen again and was eventually declared dead a few years later. That was over thirty years ago. That atelier was his final work, and had at some point been dubbed 'The Wish-fulfilling House.'"

Krishna-san pointed out the third-floor window, to a visible residential area.

"This country tossed aside countless traditions with the Westernization of the Meiji era. One of these traditions, I believe, is housing. Tiled roofs became scarcer over the years, and the number of buildings that can be lived in and passed down through several generations has become rare. We have entered an age of mass production and mass consumption. We weren't inheriting treasures anymore, believing instead that you could reset life every few decades. That way, we could satisfy the economic activities of supply and demand. But I can't help but feel that this is weakening something that was inherently important to the people of this country."

That story made me recall something.

My father said something similar.

It takes thirty years to grow one strong, healthy tree. And yet, the Japanese lumber industry found itself in danger of going out of business in the face of massive imports of cheap lumber from emerging economies. It wasn't that he was worried about his job. He was afraid that the idea—that you could get an unlimited amount of cheap wood—would become ingrained in the minds of the people of this country. In the past, people would pray to the gods of forests, cut trees while offering gratitude towards them, then carefully built houses with that wood. Whenever they rebuilt, they tried to reuse the original wood whenever possible. Even on this earthquake-riddled island nation, Houryuuji temple has retained its majestic appearance even after a thousand years. He said that the skill of the carpenters who understood the finest details and characteristics of the wood was, of course, amazing, but what was more important was their reverence toward nature's gifts.

I always agonized over having been born into a family whose business dealt with lumber.

Did I take care of the buildings I lived in as I grew up? Did I ever think about the feelings of those who built them? I thought of the construction sites for renovation and new buildings I saw every day within this grand city, and wondered if a day would ever come when his wish would be fulfilled.

According to Krishna-san, everything originated from the design of that house, which was the intent of the architect. When an architectural friend of Krishna-san took a look at the house, they noted that while it looked simple, it used extremely high-level techniques. Even the rattling of the house was due to the fact that the beams and other structural elements had some mechanisms in them to make the structure squeak, in order to protect the building from wind, rain and earthquakes.

"The meaningful space under the stairs is the center-point of a sturdily built house. The kitchen, which gets overused the most, was deliberately omitted. The living spaces were deliberately cut off from one another. It was certainly a house that was built to last."

Krishna-san mumbled as she pushed her red-framed glasses up.

"Normally, houses should revolve around the inhabitants, but not in this case. The inhabitants inevitably begin to feel like the house was built for something other than themselves. This causes a disturbance in the mind’s equilibrium. What do you think would happen when a boy who'd just recently arrived in Tokyo with few friends, decides to live there?"

"So, in other words, it had nothing to do with ghosts?"

"Indeed, you're probably much more mentally fatigued than you realize, having moved to a city alone and all. Then there was that sound. You must have endured it at first, despite feeling afraid. But eventually, you reached a limit, and then what do you think a person would do?"

Under her glasses, Krishna-san gazed at me with her big eyes.

"They create a reason to escape from their fears."

"Create...a reason?"

"Yes. They create a reason for the sounds. In other words, you were subconsciously carving numbers into the walls of the house at night."

"But—"

I was speechless, and Krishna-san leaned in closer.

"Think about it, Nagi-kun. Where does fear come from? It comes from the unknown. That’s why people study and learn. They research inexplicable things to escape from the fear of the unknown. All human wisdom has been built up to escape fear. Cooking developed out of fear of starvation, clothing developed out of fear of external temperatures, and buildings and weapons developed out of fear of external enemies. Everything began with human fears. You thought there was an inexplicable sound at night. However, no matter how much you searched the house, you couldn't find the source of the noise. Of course not. You'd have to know that the house was deliberately designed to make sounds, but you had no way of knowing that. So then what did you do? Cornered, you created a reason for the sounds. In other words, a reverse schema."

Is that even possible?

No—it had to be. Otherwise, how would the number "4" ("四") have been carved into the back of a shoe I'd been wearing all along? I was the one wearing it, so it had to have been me.

My lower body was trembling. Another self acting independently of my will. No, I was terrified of the fact that I was not in full control of all my functions.

"Well—"

Krishna-san sat back down and sighed.

"It was also my fault for knowing there was such a property nearby, and neglecting it. I’m sorry," she said, as she bowed her bobbed head, which flustered me.

"No, no, no, please don’t. It all started with me being greedy because I wanted to skimp on living expenses and didn't immediately move out. Please raise your head," I frantically said.

"Mmhmm, it was your fault," she nodded readily. "There are no shortcuts for granting wishes."

I had no excuse at all, and I just hung my head.

However, I realized there was one question that was still unanswered.

"Hm, wait a second? Then why were the numbers counting down?"

Krishna-san shook her head, saying ‘I don’t know.’

"Huh? You don't know?" When I asked back, Krishna-san’s big eyes glimmered with amusement for some reason.

"I don't know. I don't know, but, I think you probably carved a '10' ("十") on the wall."

"A '10' ("十")? Not a '7' ("七")?"

"Right, the number '10' ("十"). But maybe it wasn't meant to be a number to begin with. It could have been anything for you. Carving anything on the wall as the source of the sounds would have alleviated your fear. But here's where a certain coincidence occurred, which was the cause of this incident. There was an accidental scratch on the spot where you carved, right from the start. You subconsciously remembered carving '10' ("十") somewhere. Yet when you woke up, it overlapped with the scratch that was originally there to create '7' ("七"). And that was what gave birth to something else inside you—a 'ghost'."

...Ahh.

I recalled the first time I saw the numbers, the feeling of uncontrollable anxiety. It was the feeling of knowing that something was happening that I couldn't cope with or understand.

"After that, you continued carving numbers into the wall in accordance with the sound you heard after sleeping. The countdown was probably because of your subconscious desire. If the numbers went up, they would go on forever. I think it was a hope that somewhere along the line it would end one day." Krishna-san then added with a mischievous look on her face, "But you're quite simple. If the countdown had truly finished, you may have ended your life. I'm glad we made it on time."

And with that, she showed me a soft smile for the first time.

"Alright? I hope you've learned your lesson to not enter the world of ghosts out of pure curiosity. And you should respect all beings as well as the living. That's the main goal of Ikaigabuchi, after all."

And the Krishna-san who said such things with complete seriousness, was, as I had imagined, a pure and straightforward person.

Although—

She had a far more moe-like character look than that of a father or big brother.

  ◯

And with that, the complex, tangled and inexplicable threads had been unraveled.

According to Krishna-san, she'd realized that the structure of the building caused anxiety in the psyche of its inhabitants the moment I made my first post. In an effort to keep it under wraps, she indirectly tried to tell me through Karasu-san—but Karasu-san was pretty careless to begin with, and she became drunk on top of that, so the important message never got across to me, which is why things had escalated to this point.

In any case, everything had been solved, so it was alright.

"I'll give you a warning, though." As I was leaving the house, Krishna-san had told me. "You don't seem to have much tolerance for this field. Maybe I shouldn't be saying it as an administrator for an occult site, but you shouldn't delve into the occult genre too much. At the very least, make some friends in Tokyo you can confide in, get a girlfriend, and construct a proper, solid identity before you dabble in the occult as a hobby. And especially— don't get into it like that girl named Yoishi."

...Which sounded about right.

As Krishna-san had said, Yoishi was abnormal. She had, how to put it, it was as if she had her feet planted firmly on the other side. Her bizarre level of focus on the paranormal was probably what helped shape those urban legends.

Stepping out of the western club building, I was met with an extraordinarily beautiful sunset.

The clear orange color shone straight to the depths of my soul.

Damn.

My tear glands had weakened completely after this incident, and I was about to burst into tears again out of of thankfulness for the peace I had gained. But with a gulp, I managed to hold back the tears. There were a lot of students about, and beyond the gate of the western club building was the affiliated high school. There were many high school girls going home as well. I didn't want to embarrass myself as a university student.

Just then—

I suddenly noticed one of them was staring at me.

She was a slender girl with beautiful black hair and fair skin. Her uniformed figure was dazzling, and the way she stood there made her strangely stand out from the rest of the world...

"Wait...what?" I eventually realized that I recognized the beautiful girl, and I couldn't restrain myself from running over to her. "Are you, by any chance, Yoishi?"

The girl then turned her glass bead-like eyes towards me.

"Oh, it's you."

Judging from her sleepy reply, she apparently wasn't staring at me.

Yoishi, dressed in her school uniform, stood out in a different way, partly because of her looks. As ever, she was someone far removed from the concept of ‘ordinariness’.

"Yo, how unexpected. You attend our affiliated school? What year are you in?" I spoke to her with a big smile on my face.

"That has nothing to do with you."

Yoishi's response was quite cold.

There was not a hint of that vitality-filled, ecstatic look in her eyes when she faced the paranormal.

"I hadn't come to school in a while—looks like I shouldn't have come at all," she muttered with a disgusted expression, but I noticed she didn't have the irritating odor from before. It seemed she'd taken a bath. Glossy black hair, an ironed white blouse, and a black tie. I narrowed my eyes as I gazed at the contrast, and said, "Pretty good."

"What is?"

"Ah, it’s better for you to live clean and dressed like that. And you look good in that uniform."

However, Yoishi turned her back to me, saying, "How absurd".

I intended to praise her, but it apparently just annoyed her.

"If you have nothing to say, then I'm going."

She turned on her heel, and I hurriedly stopped her.

"You were staring over there, did you want something from Krishna-san?"

"—Krishna." She reacted to that name, and her glass bead-like eyes immediately became full of life. "I see—then Ikaigabuchi is here."

As usual, she was very responsive to anything occult-related.

I then got carried away and dared to drive the conversation in that direction.

"I owe you a lot too. I was told all about that house. Didn't know something like delirium over a building even existed. I completely freaked out when I learned the truth."

I was probably on a high after having been freed from my bottled-up anxiety. I kept on rambling. I was babbling on and on. Everything I'd heard from Krishna-san, about the truth of the incident. I talked about the architecture of the house, the regret of the architect who disappeared, and even the housing problems that Japan was facing today, and so on.

However, Yoishi's reaction was worse than I'd expected.

Without turning towards me, she muttered emotionlessly, "That's good to hear," and walked away.

I was weirdly bothered by her somewhat lonely, slender back, that looked as if it would fly away if someone blew on it, so I followed her.

"You're looking kinda down, what's up? Is something still bothering you?"

The moment I said that, I remembered.

Come to think of it, that day, she said something to me at the house.

『Did you notice?』

...Right. What did she notice back then?

When I asked her that, she halted in her tracks.

She slowly turned around and answered with another question.

"Do you really want to know?"

Those cold black eyes were going to swallow me—

I heard something inside me say, don’t do it.

From here on was a story you shouldn’t know, it warned.

"You can still turn back," said Yoishi. "If you peek from this side, you’ll end up being seen by the other side as well – It’s that kind of story."

Those words, also spoken by Krishna-san, gave me goosebumps once more.

But—

I wonder why.

At this moment, a bizarre sense of excitement assailed me. I wanted to view the world as she did. I wanted to stand where she stood. I wanted to know the secret of how her words would always shake the world I believed in so much.

"I'll listen. So tell me," I said, and the moment I did, either my mind was playing tricks on me, or did Yoishi seem to have a slightly forlorn expression on her face?

However—

I would only later realize that this was the turning point.

A bizarre, grotesque, irredeemable story about wandering through the darkness of humanity began right here.

The journey around the boundary between this world and that one -- the journey around "Ikaigabuchi”(Abyss of the Spirit World), began at this very moment.

Eventually, Yoishi nodded once and then began to narrate.

"I’ve been wondering for a while. Why is it called 'The Wish-fulfilling House'?"

"Why? Because--"

"The title lacks a subject. Whose wish is it fulfilling?"

Those words gave me chills--

I immediately began regretting my decision.

"That house isn't a house of hope. The only thing I felt was intense malice from within," Yoishi whispered with the expression of a princess who'd been locked away in a dark castle for a millennium. "The architect with an unusual love of architecture who disappeared. The countdown that began with '7' ("七"). The mysterious space under the stairs. Someone's Wish-fulfilling House. There's only one answer that ties everything together."

My goosebumps wouldn't disappear.

What was she trying to say? What was going to come out of this?

The night-colored girl uttered with a glimmer in her dark eyes:

"The architect is still inside those stairs."

"W-wait a sec--"

"Of course, he’s not alive anymore. But then it all comes together. Why there's a meaningless space under the stairs. Why it was named 'The Wish-fulfilling House.' And why the numbers began with '7' ("七")."

"Wait, that doesn't explain anything. It didn't start with '7' ("七"); it was originally '10' ("十"), and I just happened to write the number over an already existing scratch—"

"Wrong." Her words twisted my world. "You originally wrote '10' ("十"). That much is true. But there was never a scratch originally. Someone added a scratch that changed it to '7' ("七")."

"How...how can you say that happened?"

"I saw it."

"Saw what?"

"I saw your scrawled '10' ("十") had been scratched from the top, and turned into a '7' ("七")."

"Then...then, the reason Krishna-san kept saying there was no ghost in that house was because—"

Yoishi turned her eyes to the western club building, with a sad look on her face.

"Ignorance is bliss, after all."

...Ha.

"That is that person's kindness, something I lack."

...Hahaha.

Hahahahahahahahahahaha.

I had to laugh, or else I would have gone insane.

"You're lying, aren't you? You're making this all up, right? Oh, I got it! It's an occult story you read somewhere!" I continued laughing, praying that that was the case.

Yoishi looked at me sympathetically with a mournful gaze.

"It's all true. Because—" When I could no longer utter a word in rebuttal, Yoishi quietly landed the final blow. "After you were carried out, some man I'd never seen before was clicking his tongue on the stairs."

As the world went dark—

Only Yoishi's cold, sweet voice reverberated.

"Welcome...to the world on this side."

Translator's notes and references

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